CHAPTER XVIII. "Yes. "Winifred Wood will never marry, unless the grave can give up its dead. Anna raised her eyes. She spoke readily enough, but there was a new timidity in her manner. He had certain orders from which on no account was he to deviate. "Constance—or, rather, Mrs. Wood!" "Leave go!" thundered Blueskin—"leave go—you'd better!"—and he held the sack as firmly as he could with one hand, while with the other he searched for his knife. Wood.
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